in the midst of struggle
dark clouds are clogging your Thursday morning,
everything left was damaged by the struggle;
across these heavy fumes, you keep on gasping,
stranded in a razed land where living is a hurdle…
you thought that dying would be so much better,
alone with corpses brought by the horrendous past;
the trace of gunpowder leaves your hope dimmer,
and the smell of blood has taken your will to last…
but then again, time will just let the heavens pour,
like the very last drop of tear in your weary eyes;
let this battlefield be cleansed and haunt you no more,
no matter how hurt you are, later, you’ll soon realize…
there will still be wars out there waiting to be fought,
another day in the open with morals waiting to be taught…
